


Spooky Action At A Distance

by Sab



Series: Tales of the Colorblind Private Eye [1]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: (Uploaded by Punk), Colorblind Detectives, Detective Noir, Gen, Unresolved Crack, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-10-27
Updated: 1999-10-27
Packaged: 2017-12-03 09:37:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/696872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sab/pseuds/Sab
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some are Rhee. Some are not. (Uploaded by Punk, from you guys are just fucked.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spooky Action At A Distance

**Author's Note:**

> "Spooky Action At a Distance" is the theory in physics, opposed by Einstein, that suggests that particles in the universe separated by great distances are able to exchange information and perform in synch (not 'Nsync). Since technically that presupposes information traveling faster than light, it's been difficult for physicists to latch onto this theory, though many take it on faith.
> 
> For Sister Phledge, for saying (indirectly) "write humor!," and especially for Aurora Vere for telling me that "no no no, go go go" was, in fact, a good song lyric, thereby inspiring me to write humor. :)

I'll never forget that first dark and stormy night she appeared in my office. She was a broad dame, rather, a broad. I mean, a dame, and a fine one. Well, regardless, she had great legs. 

I'm Fox Mulder.

"Agent Mulder, I'm Dana Scully. I've been assigned to work with you," she said, in that way she had of refuting all of my hard-fought beliefs with one toss of her green hair. But I wasn't going to back down, not now, not ever. I'm a private eye. And I'm red-green colorblind, which is part of the reason my eyes are so private. One's red. The other's green. I think. How should I know? I'm colorblind. 

"Mrs. Stevens, bring me a cup of coffee, and a towel so the lady can dry off from the rain," I shouted through the misted-glass door, forgetting that I didn't have a secretary or a misted-glass door. Mrs. Stevens returned seconds later and handed me an iced tea.

"Thank you, ma'am," I said, with a tip of the fedora. Mrs. Stevens straightened her stocking and exited through the misted-glass door I still didn't have. I gestured for the dame to sit down.

"So what brings you here, Miss Scully?" I asked, flipping open a silver cigarette case and offering her one.

"No thanks, I don't need a cigarette case," she said, opening her own and extracting a toothpick, which she chewed on in that annoying way she had of refuting all my hard-fought beliefs.

I clapped the cigarette case shut.

"As I was saying," the Scully dame continued, "I've been assigned to work with you."

I considered that for a while. It was a setup; I could smell Vinny "The Cigarette Smoking Man" Bertolli's handiwork a mile away. He thought he could bait me, seduce me with this green-haired broad, but I was a step ahead of him.

"Is that so," I said, resting my feet on my desk. However, since I was standing at the time, I fell backwards and hit my head on the floor. Didn't miss a beat, though. I'm just that smooth.

"Are you okay, Agent Mulder?" Scully asked. "I can come back later."

"That's what they want you to say!" I said, sitting crosslegged on the floor. "I want you to look at something. Mrs. Stevens!" I called again through the misted-glass door. "Bring me the slide projector."

Seconds later, Mrs. Stevens wheeled in the slide projector, resting on what looked suspiciously like an alien corpse on an autopsy guerney. Later it was proven that said corpse was simply a pastrami sandwich, but the evidence was conveniently lost in the lab and the records continued to state that it was, in fact, an alien corpse.

"Take a look at this," I said to Scully, after Mrs. Stevens had straightened her stockings and left the room. I flicked on the slide projector. "It seems that four students in Oregon claim to have been abducted by aliens," I said, flipping past slides of Rocky and Bullwinkle. "We've got to get over there."

Scully looked at the ground. "I need you to tail my husband," she cooed. "I think he's seeing another woman." She looked up, green hair poking out from underneath a floppy French hat I could have sworn she wasn't wearing when she came in.

"You've come to the right place, ma'am," I said, flipping the slide projector off. "Now, what's your husband's name?"

"What husband?" Scully asked, sans hat. "Mulder, are you okay?"

"Of course I am," I said defensively. "Why wouldn't I be okay?"

"Because you've known me for six years, Mulder. You should know by now that I'm not married, Mulder."

Who was this broad? And why did she insist on calling me by my last name all the time?

"I'm afraid you're mistaken, ma'am. I've never seen you before in my life."

"Mulder, what are you talking about?" she asked, sans hat. "I think something's wrong with you; we'd better get you to a doctor."

She leaned forward, crawled across my desk and dove headfirst into my chair. I, of course, was not there, but rather standing on the other side of the office near the slide projector. She grinned sheepishly and scurried over in the tallest high heels I'd ever seen on a dame or a drag queen.

"As I was saying," she said, stroking my cheek and pressing the back of her hand to my forehead and squeezing my hand – I think she had three arms, maybe four – "we've got to get you to a doctor."

"Ma'am, if you'll just sit down, we can discuss your husband and his possible connection to the teens in Oregon."

"I'm a doctor!" Scully said victoriously, spinning around like Superman and stopping, now clad in a white doctor's coat and one of those round shiny forehead bands doctors wear that I think are really for coal miners.

And then it hit me. Vinny "The Cigarette Smoking Man" Bertolli was trying to bait me. Oh, wait, that hit me before. I reached down and surreptitiously patted the pistol I had holstered to my ankle. Trusty friend.

"Why are you patting your ankle?" Scully asked.

"No reason," I said.

"Oh," she said, in that way she had of refuting all my hard-fought beliefs.

"Now, you go back and tell Vinny I ain't gonna put up with any more of his shit. Tell him he and the Greys don't own this town, not while Fox Mulder is alive."

I'm Fox Mulder.

Scully was wearing the hat again, and the doctor's coat, and staring at me with that way she had of refuting all my hard-fought beliefs and then making me want to fuck her so hard my dick came off.

"Now, let's go to Oregon."

****

It was a dark and stormy Oregon night. 

Scully was driving the rental car, with little wooden blocks tied to her feet so she could reach the pedals.

"Mulder," she said after a long silence. "Why are we in Oregon? Didn't we solve this case six years ago?"

 _Oh, we're not here for the case. We're here to give Vinny "The Cigarette Smoking Man" Bertolli a taste of his own medicine_ , I thought. Out loud I said, "Oh, we're not here for the case. We're here to give Vinny "The Cigarette Smoking Man" Bertolli a taste of his own medicine."

The rain smacked down on the windshield like a thousand tiny transparent raindrop-shaped aliens pouring from the heavens. Vinny's crew wasn't going to win, not tonight. Not with Fox Mulder around.

I'm Fox Mulder. I am, really.

We pulled into the haunted bowling alley just past midnight. I knew it was haunted because there was a sign above it that read "Haunted Bowling Alley." 

"Look, Scully, a haunted bowling alley," I said.

"Yeah," she said, getting out of the car in that way she had of getting out of the car.

"Now, let's go find Vinny and the Greys," I said, getting out of the car in that way Scully had just moments ago, by opening the door, putting my feet down, standing up, and then closing the door behind me. Oh, the things I've learned from Scully, that brilliant dame.

"Mulder, I'm not sure why we're here," Scully sighed, sans hat. "I don't even know who Vinny is."

"Then why did you come along?" I asked, tipping my fedora. It had caught a lot of rain in the brim, and it spilled all over my ugly tie. It's not an ugly tie!

She sighed again. "Because I love you, Spooky," she said, straightening her stockings. Whooo-ee!

Vinny was in the bowling alley and I shot him. The Greys – who I think are really red and green – scattered to their ships and took off to the heavens. Then Vinny came to life again, even though the authorities had insisted that even though they hadn't found the body, there was enough blood to assure that no one had survived. Everything was okay, though, because Vinny shot his son Donny "Agent Spender" Bertolli, who is definitely dead, even though we never saw his body either.

Later that night in bed I turned to Scully, who wasn't there. "Nice work today, partner," I said. She, not being there, did not reply. I knew her hair was red, then, because it smelled of strawberries, which are green.

Of course, to me, who is red-green colorblind, both are grey. And of course the aliens are grey. Coincidence? I think not.

I'm Fox Mulder. I know it's a stupid name, but it's mine. Really. I swear.

"Good night, Mulder," Scully said, before kissing me and rolling off to bed. I don't have a bed. Oh, wait, yes I do. I have a waterbed. Hey, if those days never happened, how did the waterbed get paid for? Oh well, no matter, I can't remember them anyway.

"Good night, Scully," I said to Scully. She, of course, wasn't there. Thus I proved the physics principle of "Spooky Action at a Distance."


End file.
